Joyride to hell
The Geometry of Unlikely Companions
The Hazbin Hotel’s lounge was currently a sanctuary of sorts, if one considered a room filled with ancient demons, an alien princess, and two traumatized Japanese high schoolers to be a sanctuary. The red velvet curtains were drawn against the eternal twilight of the Pride Ring, and the air was thick with the scent of Husk’s cheap whiskey and the faint, lingering smell of ozone from Lum’s latest outburst.
Angel Dust was sprawled across a loveseat, his long, slender limbs draped over the furniture in a way that looked both effortless and physically impossible. He was currently watching Ataru Moroboshi and Shūtarō Mendō, who were sitting on opposite ends of a small table. They were engaged in a fierce game of rock-paper-scissors, which had already resulted in three forehead-flicks and one minor wrestling match.
"I’m tellin’ ya, Vags," Angel said, blowing a plume of pinkish smoke toward the ceiling. "There’s somethin’ fishy about those two. And I don’t mean the kind of fishy you find in the Envy Ring."
Vaggie, who was sharpening her spear near the fireplace, didn't even look up. "They’re teenagers, Angel. They’re stupid, loud, and they have the survival instincts of lemmings. What more do you need to know?"
"No, no, it’s deeper than that," Angel insisted, sitting up and focusing his heterochromatic eyes on the boys. "Look at 'em. They fall through a hole in the sky together. They end up in the literal pit of despair together. They fight like an old married couple, but they’re never more than five feet apart. It’s suspicious."
Ataru suddenly slammed his hand down. "Paper! I win! Prepare for the Flick of Destiny, Mendō!"
"You cheated! Your hand was a fraction of a second late, you baseborn cretin!" Mendō roared, reaching for the katana that Charlie had politely asked him to leave in the umbrella stand. Finding his hands empty, he settled for grabbing Ataru’s tie and shaking him.
"See?" Angel pointed a gloved finger. "The passion. The intensity. The way they focus on each other to the exclusion of everything else. Even that green-haired broad hasn't gotten a look in for ten minutes."
Lum was, in fact, busy trying to help Niffty "clean" the ceiling by flying the tiny cyclops around like a human vacuum cleaner. She was distracted enough that the boys were left to their own devices.
Angel Dust stood up, his heels clicking on the hardwood floor as he strutted over to the table. He leaned down, placing two of his hands on the surface and the other two on his hips, casting a shadow over the bickering pair.
"Alright, boys, spill it," Angel purred, his voice dripping with a mix of mischief and genuine curiosity. "I’ve been around the block a few thousand times. I know a 'situation' when I see one."
Ataru blinked, looking up from Mendō’s grip. "A situation? Is it about the maid uniforms? Because I’ve been meaning to ask if the hotel provides them for guests, or if I have to... acquire one."
"Not that, ya pervert," Angel rolled his eyes. "I’m talkin’ about you two. You and the rich kid over here. How’d you really end up here together?"
Mendō straightened his jacket, regaining his composure with a haughty sniff. "It was a tragic accident of fate. This lecherous fool was attempting to desecrate the sanctity of the girls' locker room, and I, as a defender of maidenly virtue, was in pursuit to deliver justice. We struck a localized spatial distortion and fell. It is a burden I must bear until I find my way back to my private jet."
Angel narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I heard the 'locker room' story. But that don't explain why you're still glued to his hip. If I hated someone as much as you say you hate him, I’d have ditched his ass the second we hit the pavement. This is Hell, honey. It’s real easy to lose a body in an alleyway."
"I would have!" Mendō insisted, his face turning a light shade of pink. "But the Moroboshi luck is contagious! If I leave him, I’ll likely be eaten by a three-headed dog. He is a... necessary shield against the local hostilities."
"And you, schoolboy?" Angel turned his gaze to Ataru. "You’re always talkin' about 'hunting' and 'babes,' but every time a real demon lady looks at ya, you end up hidin' behind Mr. Suit-and-Tie over here."
Ataru crossed his arms, looking indignant. "Mendō is a very convenient distraction! While the demons are busy trying to rob him or figure out why his hair is so shiny, I can make my move! It’s a tactical partnership!"
Angel leaned in closer, his face inches from Ataru’s. "Tactical, huh? Is that what the kids are callin' it these days? 'Cause from where I’m sittin', it looks a lot more like 'codependent.' You guys are like two halves of a very annoying coin."
"We are nothing alike!" they both shouted in unison, their voices echoing off the walls.
"See? Synced up like a boy band," Angel chuckled. He walked around the table, his extra arms gesturing wildly. "I’ve seen it a million times in the studios. Two guys hate each other’s guts on camera, but the second the lights go down, they’re sharin' a trailer and a bottle of lube. You’re rivals, right? Best enemies? The 'only one who can kill you is me' type of deal?"
Mendō stood up, his face now a deep crimson. "I find your insinuations highly offensive! I am the heir to the Mendō Zaibatsu! My lineage is pure, my reputation is spotless, and my interest in Moroboshi is strictly limited to seeing him humiliated in a public forum!"
"And I," Ataru added, standing on his chair to match Angel’s height, "am a connoisseur of the female form! I have no room in my heart, or my schedule, for a guy who cries when the lights go out!"
"He’s nyctophobic and claustrophobic!" Ataru pointed at Mendō. "He’s a total mess!"
"And he’s a carrier of cosmic misfortune!" Mendō pointed back. "He’s a walking disaster!"
Angel Dust sighed, leaning back against a pillar. "You guys are boring me with the denial. It’s Hell. Nobody cares who you’re bunkin’ with. In fact, it’s practically a requirement to have a 'special friend' to keep the soul-crushin' loneliness at bay. Just admit it. You’re together. In the *biblical* sense."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even Husk stopped polishing his glass to see how this would play out. Vaggie leaned on her spear, looking genuinely curious for the first time.
"Biblical?" Ataru asked, scratching his head. "Like... we’re in a Noah’s Ark situation? Two of every kind?"
"No, ya dim bulb," Angel groaned. "I mean you’re knockin' boots. Grindin' gears. Parkin' the car in the garage. You’re bangin'!"
Mendō looked as though he might actually faint. He clutched the table for support, his eyes rolling back in his head. "I... I... with *him*? The thought alone is enough to induce a permanent coma! I would rather be trapped in a dark, cramped elevator with a colony of octopuses!"
"And I’d rather eat Lum’s cooking for a week!" Ataru gagged. "He’s too high-maintenance! Do you know how much he spends on hairspray? I could buy a whole year’s worth of adult magazines for that kind of money!"
Angel Dust smirked. He knew he was getting under their skin. He loved a challenge, and these two were the ultimate puzzle of repressed teenage hormones and cultural confusion. "Look, I’m an expert in the field of... let’s call it 'intimate dynamics.' You two have the classic 'enemies-to-lovers' arc written all over ya. The bickering? That’s just foreplay. The constant physical contact? That’s tension seekin' an outlet."
"It’s not tension!" Mendō shrieked. "It’s a struggle for dominance!"
"Same thing, honey," Angel chirped.
Charlie walked into the room, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. "Oh! Is everyone having a nice talk? I love it when our guests bond with the staff! What are we talking about?"
"Angel is trying to convince us that we’re a couple," Ataru said, pointing a finger at the spider demon.
Charlie’s eyes widened, and she let out a small, delighted gasp. "Oh! Is that true? I mean, I noticed you were very protective of each other during the Overlord Games, but I didn't want to assume! That’s so wonderful! Love is the first step toward redemption!"
"It’s not love!" Mendō wailed, sinking into his chair. "It’s a nightmare! Princess, please, tell him he’s wrong! Tell him it’s biologically and socially impossible!"
"I don't know, Mendō-san," Charlie said, tapping her chin. "In Hell, we see all kinds of beautiful connections! And you two do seem to share a very unique... energy."
"The energy of a dumpster fire," Vaggie added from the corner.
Angel Dust wasn't giving up. He walked over to Ataru and slung an arm around his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Listen, kid. I can see it in your eyes. You’re exhausted. All that girl-chasin', all that runnin' from the lightning lady... it’s a lot of work. Wouldn't it be easier to just settle down with someone who already knows all your flaws? Someone who’s already seen you at your worst?"
Ataru looked at Mendō. Mendō looked at Ataru. For a split second, there was a flash of genuine, shared history—the countless battles, the shared meals at the Moroboshi table, the time they teamed up to fight off alien invaders, the silent understanding that they were both, in their own ways, complete idiots.
Then, Ataru saw a strand of Mendō’s hair was out of place, and Mendō noticed a smudge of dirt on Ataru’s cheek.
"He’s ugly," Ataru said.
"He’s poor," Mendō replied.
"Ugh, you guys are tough," Angel said, pulling away and crossing all four of his arms. "Fine. If you’re not 'together,' then explain the portal. Portals in Tomobiki don't just open for anyone. They open for people with a deep, cosmic connection. A tether. You two were pulled here together because the universe—or Hell, or whatever—decided you were a set. A pair. A duo."
"It was a fluke!" Mendō insisted.
"A coincidence!" Ataru shouted.
"I don't believe ya," Angel said, his voice dropping into a low, serious tone. "And I’m gonna keep askin'. Every day. Every hour. Until I get the truth. I’m an Overlord of the sheets, boys. I can smell a lie from a mile away, and right now, this room smells like a giant, glittery pile of 'we’re-not-gay-but-we-might-be'."
Husk finally walked over, leaning his elbows on the bar. "Give it a rest, Angel. They’re kids. They don't even know what they are yet. Besides, you’re scarin' the rich one. He looks like he’s about to have a stroke."
"I’m not scarin' him, I’m enlightenin' him!" Angel countered. He turned back to the boys, a predatory glint in his eye. "Tell ya what. I’ll stop askin' the second you give me a straight answer. No more 'accidents,' no more 'rivals.' Just tell me the nature of the beast."
Ataru looked at Mendō. He was tired. He was hungry. He could hear Lum coming down the stairs, and he knew that if she saw him talking to Angel Dust for too long, he was going to get another five thousand volts to the spine. He needed this conversation to end. He needed Angel to go away.
Mendō was thinking the same thing. He could feel a 'cramped space' panic attack coming on just from the sheer weight of Angel’s scrutiny. He needed an out. Any out.
They looked at each other one last time. A silent pact was formed—a desperate, nonsensical agreement born of the Tomobiki spirit of 'just making the problem go away.'
"Fine!" Ataru shouted, throwing his hands up.
"Whatever!" Mendō yelled, standing up.
They turned to Angel Dust, who was leaning forward, his eyes wide with anticipation. Even Vaggie and Charlie had leaned in, the room falling into a hush.
"You want to know the truth?" Ataru asked, his voice cracking.
"You want the definitive answer?" Mendō added, his face a mask of grim determination.
"Yes!" Angel breathed. "Tell me!"
Ataru and Mendō looked at each other, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of their lungs:
"WE FUCK!"
The silence that followed was so absolute that you could hear the faint sound of a distant sinner screaming in the next block over.
Angel Dust froze. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. His cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the rug with a tiny hiss. His four arms hung limp at his sides.
Charlie dropped her tray. The teapot shattered, splashing warm chamomile across her boots. She looked like she had just witnessed a miracle and a disaster at the same time.
Vaggie actually dropped her spear. It clattered to the floor, the angelic steel ringing out like a bell.
Husk just stared, his jaw hanging open, a half-poured drink overflowing the glass and soaking his hand.
Even Lum, who had just entered the room with Niffty, stopped mid-air. Her sparks died out instantly, and her jaw dropped so low it nearly hit her collarbone.
Ataru and Mendō stood there, panting, their faces bright red, looking like they had just confessed to a triple homicide.
"There!" Mendō gasped, pointing a trembling finger at Angel. "Are you satisfied?! Is your curiosity sated?! Can we please, for the love of all that is holy, talk about something else?!"
"Yeah!" Ataru added, his voice trembling. "Now leave us alone! I have... I have to go... do... things! Heterosexual things! With... with a sandwich!"
Before anyone could say a word, the two boys turned and bolted out of the lounge, sprinting up the stairs with the speed of men being chased by a pack of hungry hell-hounds. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hotel, followed by the slamming of their respective bedroom doors.
The lounge remained silent for a long, long time.
Finally, Angel Dust blinked. He reached down, picked up his cigarette, and took a long, shaky drag.
"Well," Angel whispered, his voice uncharacteristically small. "I’ll be damned."
"I... I didn't see that coming," Charlie stammered, her face a bright, glowing red. "I mean... I suspected... but the way they said it... so... direct."
"Direct?" Vaggie finally found her voice. "Charlie, they sounded like they were admitting to a war crime. I don't think they even know what that word means."
"Oh, they know," Angel said, a slow, triumphant grin spreading across his face. "They definitely know. Did you see the look on Mendō’s face? That was the look of a man who’s been caught with his pants down. Literally."
Husk wiped the spilled drink off the bar, shaking his head. "I don't buy it. They’re lyin'. They just wanted you to shut up, Angel."
"Maybe," Angel said, blowing a smoke ring. "But you saw the way they looked at each other before they said it. That wasn't a lie. That was a 'we’re-in-this-together' look. And in my book, that’s as good as a marriage license."
Lum, who had been frozen in the air, suddenly let out a high-pitched, glass-shattering wail.
"DARLING! HOW COULD YOU?!"
Blue lightning erupted from her body, arcing across the room and frying the hotel’s chandelier. She zoomed up the stairs, her screams echoing through the building. "ATARU! OPEN THIS DOOR! I’M GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A CHARCOAL BRIQUETTE! AND MENDŌ! I’M GOING TO FRY YOUR HAIR OFF!"
*BOOM!* *ZAP!* *CRASH!*
The sounds of carnage and electrical discharge began to rain down from the second floor.
Angel Dust leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs and closing his eyes with a look of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
"Best. Day. Ever," he sighed.
"We have to go stop her!" Charlie cried, already running for the stairs. "She’s going to level the West Wing!"
"Let 'em handle it," Husk grunted. "They’re 'together,' remember? They can protect each other."
As the sounds of Lum’s wrath and Ataru’s screams filled the hotel, Sakura walked into the room, holding a large bowl of rice. She looked up at the ceiling, then back at the group.
"What happened?" she asked calmly.
"Ataru and Mendō just came out of the closet," Vaggie said, rubbing her temples.
Sakura paused, a single grain of rice on her lip. She looked at the ceiling again, where a piece of plaster had just fallen due to a particularly large explosion.
"I see," Sakura said. She took another bite of rice. "I hope they’re on a diet. Stress like that can lead to overeating."
"Is that all you have to say?!" Vaggie shouted.
Sakura shrugged. "In Tomobiki, this is a relatively quiet Tuesday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s some leftover ham in the kitchen that needs my attention."
As the nurse walked away, Angel Dust let out a soft chuckle. "I told ya, Vags. This place was gettin' boring. Those kids are the best thing to happen to this dump since we got the jukebox fixed."
Upstairs, the sound of a door being kicked in was followed by a massive flash of blue light and Mendō’s high-pitched scream: "IT’S DARK! IT’S CRAMPED! AND NOW IT’S ON FIRE!"
"Love," Charlie whispered, looking up at the smoking ceiling with a tear in her eye. "It’s so beautiful."
"It’s a disaster," Vaggie corrected, picking up her spear. "But at least it’s a tax-exempt disaster."